


kir'manir

by MageOfCole



Series: Cole Does Whumptober 2020 [11]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Jango Fett/Myles the Mandalorian, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Jango Fett, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mandalorian Culture, Mandalorian Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mando'a Language (Star Wars), Parental Jango Fett, Philosophy, Protective Jango Fett, Slavery, Trauma, Whumptober 2020, Young Obi-Wan Kenobi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:48:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27055945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MageOfCole/pseuds/MageOfCole
Summary: (give a soul to someone)Jango didn’t want to give the adiik back, he didn’t want to be alone again. But if Obi-Wan asked it of him, he’d fly their stolen ship into the heart of the Core and deliver him safely into the arms of his family.(No.11 - Psych 101)
Relationships: Jango Fett & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: Cole Does Whumptober 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949908
Comments: 73
Kudos: 906





	kir'manir

He had gotten them out.

They were free.

Pirates had attacked the spice rig, and Jango had taken his chance when he saw it, gathering Ob’ika to his side the moment the ship had started to shake. He had taken the pick he had been using to crack stone open and turned it on the nearest slaver. Jango had made sure to keep his tiny _adiik_ behind him as he brought the improvised weapon down on the overseer’s head over and over and over again until it was nothing more than a mess of fractured bone and gore. Obi-Wan was just a child - freshly thirteen by the boy’s own estimate, but still an _adiik_ until he either triumphed in his _verd’goten_ and earned his beskar’gam, or turned eighteen by Human Core-standards - and he didn’t didn’t need to see the damages Jango’s rage had wrought. He had kept his _ad’ika_ behind his back as they’d made their way through the transport, picking off slavers and pirates alike as they hurried down the halls, weapons in hand. He’d found the keys for the cuffs on the fourth guard he’d killed, and he’d watched with pride as Ob’ika had grimly helped him pat down any bodies they came across, coming up with credits and weapons and the small pouches of spice they’d need to use to wean themselves off the drugs in their systems.

They’d come across a dead Jawa pirate that had been killed by a shot through the head, and he’d stripped the being of it’s belongings, long robes included, to offer to the _adiik_ as protection. It would offer him more warmth than the shredded, bloodstained tunic he had already been wearing, and would fit him better than anything they’d get off of the taller beings. His _adiik_ was only a little taller than a full-grown Jawa after all, and the sizes of the weapons would fit better in his hands. It would do, at least until Jango could get him a _kute_ that would fit him.

They had gotten off the transport, had stolen the Master’s own ship out from under him while the overseers were attempting to fight the pirates off. They were finally free.

The shuttle had been fully stocked, thankfully, and Jango had made sure to clean and dress all of Ob’ika’s wounds before he had carried the sleeping child to the large bed in the main quarters, clean for the first time since before Jango had claimed him, and looking so small and delicate as he slept. He had stitched every lash on his tiny back closed, generously applied bacta to the wounds and hoping they wouldn’t scar, and then he had sat back and watched over his _ad’ika_ as he slept peacefully.

He had wondered, watching as the little boy breathed, if Obi-Wan had a family to return to, beyond the brother that had sold him. Obi-Wan hadn’t brought it up, not over the months they had spent together as Jango taught him Mando’a and told him stories of happier times. He had seemed hesitant to mention anything from his past, like he couldn’t bear to think about it, and Jango couldn’t help but wonder if, with their freedom won, Obi-Wan would want to go home.

Jango didn’t want to give the _adiik_ back, he didn’t want to be alone again. But if Obi-Wan asked it of him, he’d fly their stolen ship into the heart of the Core and deliver him safely into the arms of his family. Jango already loved the child as if he were his own _ad’ika_ , it didn’t matter if he wasn’t old enough to be the boy’s _buir_ or that their respective ages put them closer to being _vod’e_ , but if Ob’ika didn’t want to stay with him, he’d let him go. He’d find the _adiik_ ’s family, or find him a new home if Obi-Wan didn’t want him, because that’s what Jas’buir would have done for him.

Jango hadn’t slept that night cycle, and he couldn’t bring up those thoughts afterwards. He had gone about cleaning himself up instead. He had shaved for the first time since that last morning on Galidraan, in camp and with Myles cheerfully draped over his shoulders, ever the disgustingly happy morning person. It had been the last time he had touched his _venriduur_ ’s skin, the last time he had kissed his lips and seen his face, because they had gone on patrol afterwards and returned to find the _Jetiise_ murdering their _aliit_. Jango had forced himself away from those thoughts. He had let Obi-Wan trim his hair for him when the _ad’ika_ had wanted to feel useful, and Jango had ended up with a choppy look straight out of his childhood - he’d even let his _ad’ika_ pull it back in a nerftail with a gold ribbon they had found lying around.

It was a fitting colour, though he doubted Obi-Wan knew - their lessons hadn't covered what colours meant to a Mando’ad yet.

Now, once again clad in _beskar’gam_ , and feeling like himself again for the first time since he had been stripped of his honour and purpose, Jango marches towards the clearing that had once been used as a Haat’ade camp, a quiet Obi-Wan clinging to his back and a burning mansion left behind them. He feels whole now, having been reunited with his armour, and maybe he should have thanked the _aruetyc shabuir_ Governor for stripping his _beskar’gam_ of it’s paint before he had shot him between the eyes. It would save him the trouble of having to find the specialized solvent himself.

But he hadn’t, of course, because the _shabuir_ would have needed to comb through the Haat’ade belongings for the kind of solvent that was needed to strip _beskar'gam_ of the specially made Mando paints.

“You killed him.” Obi-Wan says quietly, resting a freckled cheek against Jango’s pauldron, and his voice sounds wet. He’s not accusing, or scared, but instead he sounds confused.

“I did.” He acknowledges, because it was what Jas’buir would have done. Jaster had always been honest with him, and it was the least Jango could do to be the same with Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan sighs, warm breath fanning across the sliver of skin that was showing between the neck of his _kute_ and his _buy’ce_. “He wasn’t armed.” The kid murmurs, “He wasn’t a threat.”

“Not yet.” Jango replies roughly, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He hadn’t thought the Governor was a threat either, and his people had suffered for it. “But men like that don’t need to be armed to be dangerous.” He tells the _adiik_ , “They have connections, and power they abuse.” Jango sighs angrily, pushing away the images of all the _verde_ who died because Jango chose the wrong contract.

“But does that mean he deserved to die?” Ob’ika asks, and - _Ka’ra_ , Jango doesn’t think he had ever been that innocent.

His innocence had died with his _Buire_ and Arla, and he had learned quickly what lengths he was willing to go to for vengeance and _aliit_. It was a shock that Obi-Wan’s hadn’t been beaten out of him, but his _ad’ika_ had already proved that his innocence wasn’t a weakness - he had killed to get them off that rig too. He had shot one of the overseers through the eye to protect Jango.

“He would have never paid for his crimes otherwise, kid.” Jango states bluntly. “There’s no justice in the galaxy, not unless we make it.”

“That’s not right!” Obi-Wan says shrilly, jerking in his arms. “That’s not justice - that’s _vengeance_! The Jedi-”

Anger flares in Jango’s gut, burning and all-consuming. “The Jedi killed my people!” He snaps, and Obi-Wan flinches. Vibrating with the amount of fury in his bones, Jango lets the kid slide off of him, and he turns to face him. His body is tightly wound with restraint, and clenched fists shaking at his side. “They saw Mando’ade and decided that we deserved to die for some perceived crime. They _slaughtered_ them, and when I was the last one left they gave me to the Governor and had me sold into slavery!”

Obi-Wan curls away from him, eyes wide and teary, and he whimpers. The sound makes Jango flinch. He steps back, tries to reign his rage in, and the weight of it sends him crashing to his knees.

Jango chokes on a breath, pulls off his _buy’ce_ , and lets out a harsh sob as he curls around it, hugging the _beskar_ like he had once hugged Jaster, looking for comfort it couldn’t give him. “Is _that_ right?” He gasps, tears and salty as they pour down his cheeks in over a year’s worth of grief and anguish.

Small, wrapped hands reach forward hesitantly, before they press against Jango’s cheeks and pull his attention away from the dirt his people died on. Obi-Wan is crying too, silent tears dripping down freckled cheeks, and he looks horrified. “The - the _Jedi_ killed them?” He asks, and Jango nods.

“ _‘Lek_.”

The kid lets out a shuddering breath that turns into a hiccup, and Jango reaches forwards, carefully telegraphing his movements to give the _adiik_ plenty of time to move away if he wants to. Obi-Wan doesn’t, and Jango curls his hand around the back of his _verd’ika_ ’s neck, pressing his thumb to his pulse to ground himself. “I’m sorry, Jango.” Obi-Wan whispers, blinking quickly, tears caught on his lashes, and Jango makes a nonsensical noise of denial, but the frantic shake of the _adiik_ ’s head quiets the Mando. “I-I’m not a Jedi - I wasn’t good enough to be one.”

Jango jolts, as if struck, and he stares at the little redhead in shock. “You’re-” He can’t bring himself to say it. He’s angry, for a moment, that Obi-Wan had kept such a thing from him, but he knows how much Force Sensitive children go on the slave market - it had probably been safer that Obi-Wan hadn’t said anything.

“Not anymore.” Obi-Wan sniffles, “They sent me away.”

“They sent you away.” Jango echoes, a different kind of anger blooming in his stomach. They had sent him away, they hadn’t protected him, and Obi-Wan had been sold into a life no one deserved.

“Anyone can choose to leave the Order,” Obi-Wan explains quietly, “We’re taught that as we grow. The life of a Jedi isn’t for everyone - we’re supposed to dedicate ourselves to bringing peace and balance to the galaxy, and it’s not the life everyone wants for themselves. There’s no shame in leaving, everyone gets a choice.” Ob’ika shivers slightly. “ _I didn’t_.” He admits, and Jango draws him closer, into his lap. His own problems seem unimportant now, in the face of the _adiik_ opening up and trusting him. “They said I was too angry to be a good Jedi - that I liked fighting too much. They tell us that if a Jedi needs to fight, then they’ve already lost, because we should always find the peaceful solution. I was just going to Fall, so it wasn’t worth training me.” Obi-Wan hiccups. “They didn’t give me a choice - they just sent me away.” And with those words, his _ad’ika_ crumbles into tears, sobbing with lost opportunities and the choices that were stolen from him, and all Jango can do is hold him closer.

“Do you have anywhere you can go, _ad’ika_?” Jango asks quietly as the tears slow, and the thin arms around his chest tighten. “Any family you could go to?”

Obi-Wan sniffles again, “Kenobi means child of no-one in Joni.” He says, and it enrages Jango to hear such a statement said so flippantly. “And Obi-Wan means cursed child - I think the answer is obvious.”

“ _Shabuire dar’buire_.” Jango says passionately, and Ob’ika snorts wetly, pressing his runny nose against Jango’s neck. The Mando’ad takes a slow, determined breath. “You could stay with me, if you’d like. I don’t have much, not anymore, but I’d look after you.”

Obi-Wan stills, and he pulls away just enough to stare up at Jango with shock, something hopeful dawning in blue-grey eyes. “You-” his voice shakes, “-you _want_ me?”

“ _Ni kyr’tayl gai sa’ad_ , Obi-Wan _be_ Fett _be_ Mereel.” Jango says fiercely, and Obi-Wan blinks. “I know your name as my child, Obi-Wan of Fett or Mereel.” He repeats in Basic, and his _ad’ika_ sucks in a shuddering breath, eyes widening in awe. He slides his hand up to cradle Obi-Wan’s head, and he pulls him closer to give him a gentle _kov’nyn_. “If that’s what you’d like.” Jango tacks on hesitantly, and he watches as a wide, heart-breakingly sweet smile grows on the _adiik_ ’s small face.

“ _Gedet’ye_.” He warbles, wrapping his arms around Jango’s neck, leaning into the _kov’nyn_ , his eyes fluttering shut.

Jango does the same, breathing in another person’s _runi_ and sharing his own for the first time in over a year. “ _Olarom_ , _ad’ika_.”

“ _Olarom_ , _Buir_.”


End file.
